Ashish was sitting at his desk. With a black Shaeffer ink pen in his hand, he stared at the blank white sheet in front of him. He had been trying to write for over a month, but the only thing he could think of was the title of his next fictional story, “IMAGINATION.” Today since no one was home, he took advantage of the silence in an otherwise busy and loud household and decided to write. He started with a bundle of plain white A4 size papers and a cup of warm coffee at 11:00 am. At 4:00 pm, he had finished about four cups of coffee but could not write anything beyond “Imagination.” It was then that the door to his house opened, and his wife and two kids walked in with the house help and his parents.
“You are still at it?” His wife kept the groceries on the dining table from where she could see Ashish crouched in his study. He turned around and smiled, closed the pen, and came and planted a peck on her cheeks after hugging her.
“Heyyyy!!! Champion!!” He picked up his youngest son as he came running towards Ashish.
“How was your outing? What did you buy? And most importantly, what did you get for your papa?” Ashish asked, smothering him with kisses.
His eldest son, who came inside behind his brother, went straight to the living room, and turned on the TV. His parents were the next to enter, and they went straight for the bathrooms. Carrying all the groceries, the housemaid was the last to enter.
“I got a 5-star for you, papa.” Little Chintan took out a 5-Star chocolate bar and gave it to Ashish.
“Aww, my baby.” Ashish hugged Chintan even harder and started kissing him again. When he was done, he spoke to Anjali.
“See, only this little fellow thinks about me. Nobody else got me anything.”
“Awwww!! Well, baby, I gave you what you desired the most today. Time to write. Today was supposed to be a family-only day, remember? We were all supposed to do things together, yet you got your time to write. So, stop complaining and come; let’s cook together.” She planted a peck on his cheeks and pulled him by his arm. Once they reached the kitchen, Ashish put Chintan down, who ran and joined his brother on the sofa.
“Were you able to write something?” Anjali asked.
“Yeah, one full word.” Ashish joked.
“You know, I drank four cups of coffee and jerked twice so my mind could produce something. Anything. But all I could come up with was just one word.” Ashish explained to Anjali with a drawn-out sad face while cutting the capsicum for the pizza they were cooking for dinner.
“You jerked off twice?” Anjali repeated what Ashish had said, visibly upset. “I thought today was our night.”
“You know, baby, for you, I always have enough ammunition, no matter what.” Anjali laughed, and so did Ashish.
“No, not even a single word.”
“Yes, I have tried everything.”
“It has been more than a month.”
Ashish was speaking to someone over the phone. A fellow writer friend.
“How is it that you, who has 15 novels under his belt, 11 of which have a movie made on them and three of which have gotten awards, cannot come up with anything? Have you consulted a doctor?” His friend questioned him on the phone.
It was the night after the one when the entire family had gone shopping. Anjali was fast asleep while Ashish had been up thinking about how he could overcome his writer’s block. His friend from the U.S. had called to catch up with him.
“I am not sick, Rahul, but in a creative stalemate.” Ashish responded.
“A writer of your calibre not being able to write, that my friend IS physical illness. Anyway, you should try meditation and yoga. It energizes the mind, the body, and the soul.” His friend said.
“Actually, you are right. I have gained a lot of weight, and I think I will do that. Thank you, man.” Ashish responded with a determination to change.
“You know there is one more thing you can try. I have tried this myself. I have found that if I read my own stories, it reactivates my creative brain.” His friend added.
“I guess I will try both. All I want is to be able to start writing again. I think I will go to sleep now. It is getting late. Thanks for the help, man.” With this, Ashish disconnected the phone and went back to bed.
‘I should do yoga in the morning.’ He made a mental note to himself and picked up his last published book from the side table. The cover read, “Anthology of life – A collection of short stories.” He opened the index and decided to read the fifth story in the anthology titled “Meeting Room No. 10”
‘The clock was about to strike nine in the morning. The meeting room no. 10 was still empty. A waiter had just kept two bottles on the round table in the center of the meeting room. One in front of each chair. Within minutes this room would be occupied by two leaders who would decide the fate of millions of people in India. Mahatma Gandhi and Mohammed Ali Jinnah.
In 1944, after failed repeated appeals for reconciliation to Jinnah, Mahatma Gandhi and Jinnah decided to meet and discuss the CR formula for the division of India. That discussion was supposed to happen today in Meeting Room No. 10.
The room was….’ Ashish yawned.
Sleep had engulfed him. He closed his book, kept it on the side table, and slept. “Anthology of life – A collection of short stories” was the last thing he read before he closed his eyes and dozed off.
Ashish opened his eyes to a chocolate brown fan adorned with a golden design on its blades, rotating above his head. It took some time for him to register that he was not in his bedroom. Confused and still dazed, he looked around. It was a large room. The king-sized bed he was on was at the center of the room. Off the two side tables, one had a night lamp, while the other had a telephone placed on top. He could see the sunrise through a large window to his left. A large chair with a small table was between the bed and the window. The wall before him had a large replica of the Monalisa. To his right was the door to the bathroom. Even before he could make out how he ended up in this room, someone flushed in the washroom. He wasn’t alone, and now he was terrified. He had just slept in his bedroom and had woken up in a completely unknown room, probably in a hotel. He had no recollection of how he got here; now, he wasn’t alone. His flight or fight mechanism kicked in, and he quickly moved behind the chair. He picked up the table lamp and was ready to use it as a weapon.
The door to the bathroom opened, and a beautiful woman walked out of the door. She wore nothing else apart from her underwear. She had shoulder-length hair, a bony pointed face, and a petite frame. Her small yet firm breasts were adorned by perky and pointed nipples. She looked at Ashish, who was crouched behind the large chair with a lamp in his hands. He was shaking out of fear. She laughed at the sight and said,
“Bikram babu, e ki korchish apni? What are you doing? I thought you were asleep, and why do you have a lamp in your hands?”
‘Bikram, who is Bikram? Is there anyone else also in this room?’ Ashish thought to himself.
“Who are you? Where am I? Why do you not have any clothes on?” he mustered the strength to ask her.
“Have you gone mad, Bikram babu?? Her demeanor changed, and her body stiffened. She slowly started moving towards him.
“Bikram babu, what has gotten into your head? Why are you holding the lamp like that? It is me. Savita. Why are you suddenly afraid of me? Yesterday night you weren’t” she approached him with the stealth of a tigress approaching a prey.
“Don’t come near me.” He responded, waving the lamp at Savita.
“I don’t know you. Stay back. Where am I?” He kept waving his lamp.
“Bikram Babu, you are in Bombay, and you know that. You and I have come on a special mission and have been together for the past week, and you know that too. Yesterday night you and I slept together, and you know that too. Look at what you are wearing.” She continued moving towards him. Her hands outstretched and ready to ward off any attack. Her body bent a little ready to pounce in case she had to.
Ashish looked down and realized he was wearing nothing. Before he could look up, Savita ran like a Cheetah and took the lamp from him, pushing him back in the process. Before he could recover, she jumped on him and knocked him unconscious.
Ashish again woke up to the brown fan over the bed, only this time, his hands and legs were tied to the bed. He wore underwear this time, but he and Savita were not alone. He could see a white man in the room with Savita. He wore black pants and a white shirt. While Savita wore a white saree with blue stripes on its fall. The white man was the first to notice that Ashish was up. He immediately came and sat next to Ashish. Savita followed.
“Bikram, you realize how much of a danger you are putting your sister into.” The white man said.
‘I don’t have a sister. He thought. What is happening to me? Where am I? Who is this man? Who is this woman? What do they want from me? How did I come here? And why does this room look familiar? Why does it feel that I have been here before even though I am sure I have never been here?’ A thousand questions raced through Ashish’s mind. Yet he chose to say nothing and looked at the white man with utter confusion.
“I know that it might be a lot of pressure for you, but I can assure you that the sacrifice you are giving is for your own country. I am on your side Bikram. I want your sister to be safe. I promise you they will be safe. Your country needs you, Bikram. Your country needs you.” The white man concluded.
“Why are you calling me Bikram? My name is Ashish.” Ashish yelled out in frustration.
Ashish’s words incited something within the white man. His eyebrows contracted, eyes widened, nostrils flared, and lips pursed against each other. Fuming with anger, he slapped Ashish. He followed it up with a series of blows until Savita intervened.
“Stop it, David. He will die.” This had a calming effect on David, and he stopped.
“David, why don’t you go outside for some time? Let me talk to Bikram once.” She said.
Hearing this, David stood up and went outside the room. Once Savita heard the door shut, she opened Ashish’s hands and legs, and he stood up. Savita hugged him, and she started crying as soon as his body touched hers. After about five minutes, she moved away from the hug. Her hands in his, she finally broke the silence.
“Bikram, I also do not want to do this, but these guys have kidnapped my family like yours. They will kill them if we don’t go ahead with this. Now if you want, you can leave this place. You will definitely have to put up a fight with David, but if you do that, they will not only kill your sister but will also not leave you alone for the rest of your life. The choice is yours.” She finished.
“Savita, can you give me five minutes? I need to use the washroom; my head is spinning.” With this, Ashish walked towards the bathroom. He looked around the room and could not shrug off the feeling that he had been in this room before, yet he was sure that he had never been there. He walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. Just like the room, it was a large bathroom. From the mirror above the sink, Ashish could see a western-style shitting pot in the middle. A large bathtub lay on the farthest end of the bathroom with a window on the wall adjacent to it. Rays of sunlight filtered through the latticed window screen and fell upon the bathtub. He turned on the tap and splashed some water on his face. When he raised his head, he looked at the bathtub again, and suddenly all of it became clear. The room. Savita. His Sister. Her family. David. The task. The bathroom. And the BATHTUB. Everything.
But with this clarity came an even more troubling question.
‘No, it can’t be.’ he thought. ‘It was impossible.’
‘How on earth can he be somehow transported as a character in one of his stories?’
“Savita, I have decided. I will go ahead with the task. I will do it.” Ashish came out of the bathroom and announced to Savita.
“Let us go ahead with the plan again just to be very sure. Call David inside.” Ashish instructed Savita, and she obliged.
As soon as David came and stood in front of Ashish, Ashish landed a punch on David’s face.
“This is for all the hitting that you did. And now that we are even let’s go through the plan again.” Ashish instructed David. A trickle of blood oozed out of David’s face yet he laughed and wiped it off.
The three of them stood towering over the side stand they had pulled to the center of the room. A map of the hotel they were staying in was open on it.
“For centuries, we have stayed together as one. Then these Britishers came and started looting us. Started capturing our lands. When they realized that our strength was our unity, despite the diversity, they attacked us at the very root of our strength. This rift that they very carefully orchestrated has now blown to gargantuan proportions. Our Muslim brothers, misguided by Jinnah, are demanding a separate Muslim state. Multiple requests from Gandhiji have fallen on deaf ears. The issue has become so intense that Jinnah and Gandhiji will meet in this hotel today to discuss C. Rajagopalachari’s formula for the division of India. And till the time we are alive, we will not let this happen.
What you see in front of you is the map of this hotel. We are on the 6th floor. Gandhiji and Jinnah are going to meet in meeting room no.10 on the fifth floor. Our mission is to kill both Jinnah and Gandhi and stop the country’s division.
Each one of us has a revolver with us and enough rounds of ammunition with us to kill both of them. We will walk down the stairs towards the meeting room and open fire until all our rounds are finished.” Ashish finished.
It was 9:00 am, and Meeting Room No. 10 was still empty. Mahatma Gandhi and Mohammed Ali Jinnah exited the lift opposite the meeting room. They walked in a single file, one after the other, and reached the entrance of the meeting room. At about the same time, David, Savita, and Ashish reached the entrance. Ashish fired the first shot just about a second before the other two. The first bullet hit Savita in the left lower back. The second bullet hit David in his buttocks. Both shrieked in extreme pain and turned around to see the fury in Ashish’s eyes while he spread bullet after bullet at them and saw them fall to the ground. Just about then, a bullet whizzed past him just inches away from his ears. He realized how now he was under attack from the British soldiers whom they had not known about. One bullet hit him, and he almost immediately fell to the ground. Writhing in pain, he could see how the soldiers, having considered all three of them dead, covered the two leaders and took them away from his sight while he breathed his last breath.’
Ashish awoke abruptly to the sight of “Anthology of Life – A collection of short stories” lying next to him. He checked the watch, and it was 5:00 am.
“Anjali!! Anjali!! Wake up, Ashish shouted and woke her up. I have a story I need to write.
